Category Archives: Sarah

I am pretty sure I have started to write this post about ten different times since I had Lillienne. I did post her birth story on this blog, but I’ll be honest and admit I tried to add some a lot of humor to the post, maybe to tell myself it really wasn’t so bad, and to tell others it wasn’t so bad. But, it was nothing like I imagined, and I feel the what ifs coming on again stronger than ever, and the NEED to read as much as I can get my sticky hands on about birth, VBACS and c sections as the fiance and I hit a point in our lives where a second pregnancy is something we talk about frequently.

I wasnt even aware that the subject of cesarean sections were written about so extensively. Or rather, women’s c-section stories. Obviously I did a bit of reading up on the subject (ie: Google) while I was pregnant, in case it were to come up. Guess what? It came up. But I didnt research it so much as I could or should have, and I didn’t take anything with me but the knowledge of “If something happens, there is an alternative way they can get my baby out.” As I do more reading and research, it’s discouraging to think that perhaps I didnt do as much as I could have to avoid a CS and to have an easier, less traumatic labour and birth experience.

We’re planning on getting pregnant soon. After the wedding. And I’m terrified of getting pregnant and having another c section and/or a VBAC (Vaginal Birth After C-Section). Or attempting a VBAC only to have another c-section, going through all the work of labour only to be cut open.

I don’t think the seriousness really sunk in until several months after birth, but I had an awful labour and delivery. None if it was magical, a lot of it is a blur, I felt drugged up and weak and useless the whole time, and of course the whopper; a failure at the end when I couldnt do what women are supposed to do: grunt and moan and WORK to get their babies out. I tried, but it wouldnt happen.

And then I started thinking about it. A lot. All these feelings started popping up. Feelings like failure. The feeling that I missed that special moment of the Dr plopping a wet baby on my chest and me going “HOLY SHIT!” in my head. Instead, I was numb from my boobs down on a surgical table, shaking like a LUNATIC because I was already in transition and had gone through labour only to be cut open, and when they first took her out I just remember lying there, wanting to throw up, scream and jump up at the same time and SEE HER. I couldn’t even hold her until I was in recovery, and even then I was so messed up on drugs that the moment as I remember it is absolutely NOTHING like it should have been. I felt like the odds had been stacked against me, and maybe it wasn’t my bodies fault. Maybe it could have been prevented.

What if I hadn’t been induced? What if I had waited a few more days, refusing induction 10 days after my due date? Why couldn’t have I been more patient, assertive, and knowledgeable about what my options were? What if I had said no to all the medical interventions, like induction and having my water broken? What if I had hired a midwife or a doula to support and assist me with birthing techniques? Could I have avoided a c-section? Would I have given birth au natural and had that immediate bonding that I missed out on?

I do feel robbed of the experience of giving birth. I don’t feel like I gave birth to her, I feel like she was cut out of me. I was depressed for a few months after birth, and I couldn’t chalk it up to anything. I had a beautiful, healthy daughter, a wonderful boyfriend, and great family, fabulous friends, etc. And I realize that PPD can just HAPPEN, you don’t need to chalk it up to anything, it can just creep in like water in your basement after a beautiful summer rainstorm. But I realize now what that feeling was, that feeling like failure. That oh I couldn’t do the thing I was designed for feeling. I never acknowledged the fact out loud or to anyone or to MYSELF that that’s why I was sad, because she was in distress and my body wasnt working right and that’s why I had a c section, so I wasnt allowed to be sad about it. Medical intervention had saved her life! But what about the what ifs I mentioned earlier? And more what ifs. What if I hadn’t been induced and just hung on for a few more days? What if I had laboured at home?

But I missed out on my daughters birth. I was there, but I was not there.

I remember my OBGYN telling me shortly after labour, probably at my first postnatal checkup, that I could have another c section if I wanted to with my next pregnancy, or we could try a VBAC. I’m terrified of another c-section. I dont want to be sitting down recovering for 6 weeks again with a baby and a toddler. I dont want to be in pain for weeks again. I dont want to have to take T3’s and not be able to breastfeed again. I dont want to have major surgery. I dont want to have the same experience (minus the labour part, I am assuming) that I had with Lily- missing the immediate skin to skin contact after birth, that feeling of accomplishment.

Ok, so have a VBAC and shut up, right?

So. I’ve been reading up on VBAC’s and hospitals and Drs and I’ve ordered a few books and been googling away again. There’s a 1% chance of uterine rupture during a VBAC., which isnt huge, but it happens, and it can be fatal for Mom, Baby, or both. And tons of other things that could happen during pregnancy and labour for women who have had c sections. I’ve also read that some OBGYNS wont even allow VBACS. “Lets just cut you open, it’ll take 20 minutes, I can fit you in after my tuna sandwich this afternoon.” I’ve been reading some disturbing things about birth, and c sections, and multiple c sections and VBACS. Ive been reading some statistics and watching some documentaries and forming new thoughts and opinions I didnt even know would arise, or that I didnt think would be an issue. I’ve been thinking about giving birth again and this time I’m not going in with rose colored glasses and putting all of my eggs in one basket. Comments are appreciated.

So, Dustin got an iPhone a few weeks ago. The one person in the world wide world who doesn’t even have his own email address or twitter, and refuses to join Facebook.

Which is probably a good thing, lest he see all the 19 year old guy “friends” I have on there.

Anyway, holy shit. A cool piece of technology the iPhone is. You can like, download games and stuff. (WOW!)

He is constantly poking fun at my blackberry. Which isn’t cool since he couldn’t even figure out how to turn my phone on if he tried. Also, news flash, Dustin. Cell phones have had games since like for.e.ver. I’m still the Bejeweled Champion of Western Canada. Eat it.

We MUST take 13698 videos of her a day. Mostly of her waving at the camera. And then we MUST watch them all. 42862 times. Its a wonderful parenting tool, but I worry.

I hope she isn’t going to be one of those girls who needs to look in every single mirror she walks by, or takes out her compact when her BFF is crying a river so she can inspect her eyeliner.

I beat the shit out of those girls in high school.

Ok, I was one of those girls.

Regardless, its pretty handy to have an iPhone.

Need to take a poo uninterrupted? Let her watch herself on the iPhone. Trying to eat a civilized meal in a restaurant but your kid is throwing forks at the waitress like a professional dart player? Let her watch herself on the iPhone. Need to dry shave your armpits because people are coming over and you just caught a glance in the reflection in the front entrance door and thought there was a small african family hiding out in your armpits and you don’t have time to shower again but your kid is pulling your pants down asking for something indecipherable and you just realized youre standing in front of your windows with said pants now around your ankles and oh fuck here comes the mailman? Let your kid watch herself on the iPhone.

Thank you, iPhone, for all of your co parenting help. High fives all around.

I am at my pre-baby weight. Which was nothing to get too excited about before, but it is now. I would like to lose a lot more poundage, seeing as how I am getting married in a few months. And for other reasons, of course. Like actually being able to wear knee-high boots, leggings, and to actually wear shorts without people pointing and saying “Look! Its a walking bowl of cottage cheese! Crazy!”

Did you know that getting back down to your pre baby weight is not the same as your pre baby body?

No.

Things shift. Droops. Slide.

And us C-Section girls? It is like carrying a ball of warm dough on your tummy. Or like a sac of jello that hangs so very attractively. My tummy is still so soft. I guess I really need to build up those muscles again and do some crunchies. Mmmm, remember those Crunchie chocolate bars? I wonder if they still make them.

Dustin and I do have gym memberships although we havent used them in months. Although we have been doing so much work to the yard and house that I keep thinking “We dont even need to go to the gym – look at all the work were doing” Although were paying $$$ a month for nothing. I need to get back to the gym.

I ordered my wedding dress in January, and told the sales girl “Order me a size smaller. I plan on dropping at least 20 lbs”. And the witch snarled and said “EVERYONE says that. Brides rarely do, though.”

What a thing to say. I hope she deals with feral and rabid Bridezillas ALL.YEAR.LONG. And dreams of them, too.

We all slept in until 10:30, then I went and got Mocha’s and breakfast from Tim Horton’s. The day was pretty much FABULOUS by that point already.

We lounged, played, and I got ready for a photo shoot I had at two.

After that, we took Lily for a ride in her little wooden sled my Mom bought her for Christmas last year. Last year, Lily hated it and would cry and fuss every time we attempted to take her out in it, although I think this is from what I call “The Michelin Man Effect”. This is where your baby has so much snow gear on that it’s impossible for them to bend any limbs or even at the torso- therefore, her sleigh rides were always spent nearly horizontal.

After the sleigh ride, played a bit more outside on the “snow slide” I made for Lily.

Then it was time for hot chocolate. I deemed Lily more than old enough for her first MUG of cocoa!

By the end she was practically gargling it like it was Scope mouthwash (Thanks for teaching her that, Daddy!) so we stripped her down, and of course, when the shirt comes off, it’s painting time.

After cleaning up from that wonderful idea, I made supper. Roasted garlic chicken breasts with potatoes, gravy and garlic bread. IT WAS FUCKING AWESOME.

After supper, picked up Grandma and went to the Enchanted Forest. Lily loved it, although I think it should be a walk through event instead of a drive through deal.

After all of that, we came home, gave Lily a bath, put her to bed, and then Dustin and I drank a case of beer and partied like it was 1999. Or that’s what I would have done if I wasn’t so exhausted.

It’s working! Going to the gym is working! Last night I wore a tank top to the gym and as I was going through my arms workout I was seeing MUSCLES in the mirror. Muscles! And the jiggly arm is on its way out! Well, hopefully. Although I am sure a little jiggle is going to remain. A little jiggle is alright. Earth quakes as I wave to someone are not. Jiggly Arm Syndrome (Or, JNS.) Stop The Pandemic.
We have been eating pretty good also, if I do say so myself. I have been (for the most part) making nutritional, homemade dinners every night. Besides that one time last week we had pizza. Oh……fuck. And we had McDonald’s on Sunday night. BUT I did find this new machine at the gym…and I can burn 350 calories in FIFTEEN MINUTES. Take that, bubble butt and supersize fries.
And good lord, the ladies at the gym. Some of them look like they haven’t eaten a double cheeseburger – ever. Some of them look like they would kick my ass in about 3 seconds. Some of them wear clothes to the gym that are SCARIER than this ensemble, if you can imagine.

Some of them can run for an hour on the treadmill and not sweat an ounce, stepping off the machine with a full face of make up and their iPod’s blaring “MY HUMPS! MY HUMPS MY HUMPS MY HUMPS!”
Meanwhile I’m usually looking like I just came out of a dunk tank after ten minutes on the elliptical and panting like I’ve just run the NYC marathon. And groaning like I just finished three Big Mac’s.

I have had aquariums on and off throughout my life, I like keeping fish and watching them and blah blah blah I’m a huge dork, get over it.
Anywho I purchased 3 small cichlids a few months ago. One got MASSIVE. He still is massive, nearly 3 inches long and fat. Yesterday he ate one of my very small yellow cichlids. Now, the big fat one is even fatter. And ill. And swimming sideways looking at me like “DUDE, Seriously, I just ate a fish half the size of me and I’m gonna BLOW.”
Also, I discovered I have a few snails. They are equally disgusting and fascinating, and they come out at night with their long slim shells and creepy tentacle/eye thingies.

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I'm Sarah, and this is my blog. I write about everything and anything, so if reading about explosive shitty diapers, 321798 way to make chicken and me generally doing my thang isn't your cup of tea, ye be warned. I enjoy carbohydrates, swearing, photography, and peace on Earth- goodwill to men.